


the gift of silence

by marginaliana



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Other, Vaguely Smutty, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21974158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: The dwarf comes to the sewer on Fridays, and Krobus cannot speak.
Relationships: Dwarf/Krobus (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 104





	the gift of silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [longwhitecoats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/longwhitecoats/gifts).



On Fridays, Krobus is silent. Although he has left his people long ago, there are vows that he will not abandon, and this is one.

For a long time, the silence has weighed on him. Not only silence but the emptiness of the air around him, warm with the scent of the underground. An absence, when he wanted a presence.

If this had been the aim of his vow, he would not chafe beneath it – or, at least, he hopes that he wouldn't. He would open his mouth and take in the mineral gases, would breathe and breathe and wait and say nothing and be glad. But loneliness is not required; indeed, it is discouraged under the tenets that he lives by. If he could be not alone, the gift of his silence would be all the greater.

There are humans above, he knows, but they do not come down, and he cannot go to them without risking his life.

* * *

The dwarf comes with a flickering pop of bubbles through the grate to the north. The force field seems to make no obstacle to his passage; Krobus hides his surprise behind a wave of a shoulder tendril and waits for the dwarf to notice him.

It's a satisfying moment when he does, jumping back with his ears going sharply up.

"Oh," he says. "One of you."

Krobus wants to say something sharp to that, even opens his mouth to do so. But it's Friday.

He dips his head into something like a bow – sarcastic, of course. 

The dwarf harrumphs. "Yes, yes, the same to you." He peers around. "Nice place you got here. I mean, damp. But nice."

Krobus wonders if the dwarf expects to be understood (speaking in his own language, as he is) or if he just talks as a matter of habit, like the humans do.

"Nicer than some of the mines," the dwarf continues. "The mountain ones are all right, I suppose, but there's a bit over by the quarry that's a real dump. My cousin lives there. Thinks he's hot fungus for having something so exclusive, but there's so much maintenance, it must be a nightmare."

The dwarf gives Krobus a look, down and then up in a way that makes him the tiniest bit warm in the tendrils.

"Anyway, nice talking to you," the dwarf says, and disappears the way he came.

* * *

It's two weeks later when the dwarf pops up the second time. "Hey, Shadow. Still enjoying your stone swamp?"

The stone look certainly isn't traditional, for a Shadow Person habitat, but nonetheless this is the nicest place Krobus has ever lived. The atmosphere is just the right tinge of green. He tilts his head to indicate a yes.

"Good, good to hear," says the dwarf. Krobus notes that he looks a little awkward at this, but it doesn't stop him from wandering around the place. Krobus eyes his little stall of things for sale, decides it's probably more trouble than it's worth to the dwarf to rob him, and shifts back to lean against the wall.

The dwarf meanders his way along the edge of the water, boots scuffing at the lip of the stones where some of the sewage has slopped over and dried. "Almost like lichen, this stuff," he says. His right ear is flapping slowly. "Wonder how it tastes."

Krobus twitches at that, wondering if he'll have to speak a warning, but the dwarf just laughs. "Don't worry, I won't do it. Probably worse than milk. And that's saying something."

* * *

Another Friday, another visit. This time the dwarf doesn't greet him at once, just walks along the walls and pokes at certain stones in no pattern that Krobus can discern. Occasionally he casts a quick glance in Krobus' direction, but he appears to have decided that he's fine to do whatever he's doing. Which, given that Krobus has no idea what he's doing, is probably accurate.

When he's done making a round of the whole space, the dwarf seems disappointed. Presumably he hasn't achieved whatever it was. Krobus feels vaguely glad of this, and then guilty, and then confused. He wishes he had a horseradish just to clear his head.

Finally the dwarf sighs and meets Krobus' gaze. Krobus curls his topknot enquiringly.

The dwarf laughs. "Right," he says, and then, "See you later."

* * *

Fridays pass.

* * *

Krobus wonders what the dwarf is looking for. It must be something hidden, given the way he keeps prodding at different parts of the walls and floor, taking out various gems and dropping them into the jars for the Statue of Uncertainty. (He appears uncertain if those have any effect; Krobus appreciates the irony.)

Sometimes, though, it seems like the searching is perfunctory. On those Fridays, the dwarf can talk for hours. Krobus listens.

* * *

"It's raining," the dwarf says, coming in quietly. "Up there. I can tell by the sound. You know, some of the dwarves I know have lived their entire lives without experiencing it – without coming up far enough to hear it, even. It's dedication to our culture, I guess, but it also seems kind of sad."

He hesitates, then leaves again.

* * *

Fridays pass.

* * *

"You like cave carrot?"

Krobus tries not to grimace, and fails.

"Yeah, it's one of those things. Love it or hate it. Like void mayo."

* * *

Krobus wonders if the dwarf knows that he can speak on other days. If he chooses to come on Fridays because he knows that he'll never get a reply.

* * *

Fridays pass. Krobus thinks the dwarf has probably forgotten whatever it was he's been looking for.

* * *

"That farmer brought me something today." The dwarf pulls out a diamond and tosses it in his hand a few times. "Good quality, too."

It does look very shiny. Very, _very_ shiny.

"Probably just a bribe to get me to spill dwarf secrets, I know, but I have to admit it's a pretty nice bribe. I really love this stuff, you know?"

Krobus eyes the diamond. 

The dwarf tosses it up and down again, then throws it over. Krobus catches it hastily in his lower left tendril. By the time he's got a firm grip on it and looks up, the dwarf is gone.

* * *

"I heard a rumor about a witch," says the dwarf, popping through the force field at a jaunty saunter. "A witch, can you believe that? Flying around the countryside doing Yoba-knows-what. Heard she's got some cave hideaway, too." He shrugs. "Be careful, friend."

* * *

They're friends?

* * *

They _are_ friends, somehow. Krobus knows what the dwarf's favorite foods are, what makes him laugh, what stories he tells the other dwarves when they meet up for cave carrot beer on a Sunday night. He knows what the dwarf dreams about when he sleeps in the bottom-most cave of the mountains where the earth pulses hot. 

The dwarf knows nothing like that about _him _, since he has not spoken, but it doesn't seem to matter. They look at each other, and it's enough.__

* * *

__Krobus looks more, perhaps, than he ought to. When he cannot speak, his gaze must speak for him, but he finds that he has less control over it than he would with speech._ _

__He had never seen a true dwarf until now, only known them described in vague terms in the Shadow People epics of the past. Murderous, they are supposed to be, although he's always doubted that, and twisted, and ugly. Not golden-eyed. One summer's Friday, sunny enough to heat the sewers even through layers of earth and stone, he'd watched the dwarf sweep back his hood to reveal downy hair, generously-rounded ears, and a face expressive enough to show something beyond his ever-present sarcasm._ _

__Krobus wanted to touch him then, wanted to gather him close, wanted to let his topknot curl around his ears in a sweet caress._ _

__The dwarf had watched him then, too, as if he also wanted to reach out. But he spoke no more than Krobus did._ _

* * *

__Fridays pass._ _

* * *

__It's not until the deep of winter that the dwarf comes near enough to touch._ _

__"Don't worry, I'm not going to make off with anything," the dwarf says. "It's just that I'm dying to see what you're selling over here."_ _

__Krobus waves a tendril to indicate his assent, and the dwarf steps in a little closer. Krobus doesn't step back._ _

__"Ah, one of those big geodes, nice," the dwarf says, but other than the comment and a quick glance, he doesn't seem to care. His eyes are locked on Krobus' face instead. "Your tendrils are pretty interesting too," he says. "Can I see?" The veneer of pure nosiness is as thin as paper._ _

__Krobus unfurls, just a little, letting the upper right shoulder tendril sweep into the air, buoyed by the sewer's gasses. The dwarf sucks in a breath. "Nice," he says, but it's soft, almost wondering. "Are— are they smooth?" Krobus moves the tendril towards him, an implicit invitation. The dwarf touches him reverently, and the feeling of his gloves makes Krobus shiver. He wonders what it would be like to have skin on skin._ _

__It's Friday. He can't ask._ _

__Instead he opens another tendril and spreads them broader, asking with his body rather than his words. The dwarf shivers and leans in, and now they're kissing, learning each other through the press of lips to lips._ _

__Krobus likes that they both have lips. Different sorts, of course – the dwarf's rounder and his own flatter – but lips nonetheless. A point of connection (both metaphorical and physical)._ _

__They kiss, and touch, exploring each other in the most literal sense. Fur skimming over tendrils and down to the curve of his lowers, his topknot caressing the dwarf's chin and ears and mouth. The dwarf gives him moans and praise and gasped desires; Krobus wants desperately to reply in turn, but he cannot. He cannot. He can only give the dwarf the gift of his silence._ _

__They kiss, and touch. The dwarf takes off his gloves and tosses them away. His body shivers and goes taut and then shivers again, his lips parting with panted breaths. Krobus slips the tip of a tendril inside, tastes the warmth of his tongue. "Oh," the dwarf says, "oh, oh," and outside the sun goes down. The air chills and they curl closer into the corner of the sewer cavern. They kiss, and touch. There is only green light left._ _

__The time ticks over to midnight. Krobus opens his mouth to speak._ _


End file.
